Dynasty
by Nanaho-Hime
Summary: And even Blacks fall in love. A series derived from canon. cedrella black/septimus weasley callidora black/harfang longbottom dorea black/charlus potter lucretia black/ignatius prewett arcturus black/melania macmillan druella rosier/cygnus black
1. Chapter 1

Dynasty

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_Because even Blacks fall in love_

Disclaimer: I own nothing

For thelightiningstrike's fragment challenge

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Cedrella Black falls in love with Septimus Weasley entirely against her will, or that's what she keeps telling herself.

"Do you know that your name is, Cedrella?"

And there's irony in that statement and she hates it. She hates how he speaks in the most frank, maddening candor a human being can possess. He asks stupid questions and doesn't take the hint; her condescending manner is _not _an invitation to continue _harassing her_.

(Thank you for seeing me)

"Of course I know my name is Cedrella," she snaps, because that is what she is _supposed_ to do. Because that's what Cassie and Dora and Lycoris do, because it takes a certain kind of someone to associate with the Blacks and Septimus Weasley is a certain kind of _boor_ who good purebloods do _not _associate with. Or that's what Pelonius Parkinson drawls to Marianna Avery when she wistfully wonders why blood traitors have the nicest eyes.

(He does _not _have the most beautiful pair of mind blowing blue eyes she's ever seen, don't be absurd)

"That's good."

He's so infuriatingly _good natured_ (and maybe he makes her heart beat just a little faster and she _hates _it).

"Because sometimes you sound like your only name is Black."

He's too close, far too close, and it's only because he has no perception of personal space and _not_ because his eyes are telling her something else. Weasley always does this, _always_. He sees right through her, and he _knows _that she doesn't hate muggle borns, and he know (_knows_) that she's the invisible Black because she's obedient and soft and reserved and they all write her off. Because Cedrella will never be more than a pretty little trophy wife, and Cedrella (Ella) is predictable and she's dependable because Cedrella doesn't know _rebellion_.

(Oh look at Cedrella, definitely the most beautiful daughter. She's certainly a gem. Look at those eyes, her aristocratic brow, her lips, her eyes. Cedrella is beautiful, but that is _all_)

And why is it that goofy, idiotic, stupid, strong, _incredible_ Septimus Weasley is the only one who can see some worth in her? With his stupid crooked smile, and his stupid way of speaking like he's just speaking to Ella and not Cedrella Black. (And for some reason he likes Ella a lot more than Cedrella Black, and when she's with him she likes Ella too).

"Ella," and his voice is soft again, and she _hateshateshates _it because it makes her go weak in the knees, and it makes her vulnerable, and she can't be vulnerable, not around _him_.

"W-what?" And she curses the tremor in her words and she can't keep the venom in her voice and she stares at the ground because she _hates _him, because…he…and they…and _Black_.

Well, she hates him and she just wishes her stupid _heart _would forget his stupid _eyes _and his stupid _voice _and, oh Merlin, he gently grabs her chin and tilts her head so that she's staring directly into his _stupid blue eyes_.

"Don't be scared of me, Cedrella."

She hates him sososo much, because love is such a cliché.

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A/N: An experiment. This will be a series of drabbles exactly 500 words long on the earlier Black family. Please take the time to review…

Much Love,

Nanaho-Hime


	2. Chapter 2

Dynasty

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_Because even Blacks fall in love_

Disclaimer: I own nothing

_Callidora Black, a man ten years her senior, and a love that was always there._

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And when he's gone, it hurts and she doesn't want to be _here _anymore. Because he was her _everything _and she's been with him (in some way, shape or form) since she was _seven year old_. And she's loved him since she was sixteen and it's been _eighty four years _and so it kind of makes sense that the world is tilting on its axis right now.

Because he's always been there, and he's made her who she is and he's made her a better person because he _was _a better person and she hates saying _was_ because it should be _is_, and how could he leave her like this, how?

And he was always, _always_ good to her and he reconciled her with her sister and he taught her to respect everyone and everything and he was a part of her and now, it really was, like half of her was gone.

And she remembers how he used to smile vaguely (because he was always very vague) and how he would call her Dora and she misses him and, oh merlin, it wasn't enough. Their time together wasn't _enough_.

She is proud and haughty at his funeral because she was proud and haughty with everyone except him, and her daughter is crying and her grandchildren are crying and her son is trying not to cry but fails. She does not cry at his funeral, ignores the whispers that flutter like black butterflies around her. She doesn't care much when he's not there.

She can't cry, because you don't cry at your own funeral, and when half of you is gone, it kind of numbs you a bit.

"Harfang," Callidora Longbottom sighs and lies on their bed, and rifles through the letters he wrote her when she was in school, "I miss you."

And it's simple, what she's feeling, but it's sososo painful because she doesn't know what to do. She wants to die, but stupidstupidstupid body. Why couldn't she have died early like Lycoris? And she knows that he's watching her and it's sososo frustrating.

They call her senile, but she knows he hears her.

"Harfang Longbottom, you great prat, do you remember the first time I told you I was pregnant? You cried, you cried you great pansy. And do you remember when you bribed Frank into saying that I was his favorite aunt. And I dyed your skin purple, and everyone at the ministry thought you had some deadly disease, and do you remember that time your boss confused me for your daughter and you put off our wedding for an extra two months you great prat."

He is always there and she loves him. She's just Callidora Black Longbottom, a senile, crotchety grandmother of six, and he's just Harfang Longbottom, a vague, thoughtful, wonderful man, ten years her senior, who owns half her heart.

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A/N: Review please?


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